


So That I May Atone

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Mentions of Suicide, Other, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, survivor's guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 22:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17150135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: In which Katakura Kojuro has failed his leader, and thus will accept the consequences when the time comes.





	So That I May Atone

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for @eriksartworld on Tumblr for the Sengoku Basara Secret Santa 2018! Happy Holidays, and I hope you enjoy!

Kojuuro couldn’t think. He couldn’t speak, it was a miracle that he could actually remain upright, the guilt that sat heavy on his chest felt like lead. He watched as Masamune was carried into the dojo by his own men, laid out before the Takeda armor like a corpse _no don’t think that don’t. Anything but that._ Masamune couldn’t die – not here and certainly not now, when Oda Nobunaga had yet to be toppled. 

But _if –_

_If_ it were to come to pass, Kojuro knew that the fault would rest squarely on his shoulders. It was he that had allowed the duel between his Lord and Akechi Mitsuhide to take place, it was he who had failed to notice that he had been _shot_ and was bleeding out onto the grass with every step that he had taken. As the men left them in solitude, as Masamune’s raspy breathing became the only remaining sound, that feeling of dread only intensified.

“Lord Masamune,” he whispered, sinking to his knees beside the laid-out tatami mat, “Lord Masamune, it should have been me.” 

Masamune had countless men who would devote their lives, who would _die_ for him without a second’s worth of hesitation. Kojuro had always known that eventually, someone would take his place – someone who would not let themselves err so heinously. If he was the one teetering on the edge of death, it would have been all right. 

If Masamune died now, all would be lost. Kojuro was a capable fighter, perhaps, a reliable confidant and right eye – but what was the eye without the man that saw with it? 

Masamune twitched where he lay on the mat, one of his hands flailing about as if he was swiping at something above him in the air and without thinking, Kojuro caught his hand, squeezing it tight as if he could somehow hold Masamune’s life down, to stop it from escaping him. With care, he wiped away the light sheen of sweat that had gathered on Masamune’s forehead, his breath catching in his chest as he realized just how hot his skin had become.

Oh gods let him live. Oh gods let him live, forgive my fault.

“K’juro,” Masamune rasped, and clenched his fingers. Kojuro, of course, held fast, even though he knew deep down that he was not worthy of such faith. As soon as his Lord was recovered, he, Katakura Kojuro, would find a way to make sure that this never happened again – whether it required his own end or not. He was prepared to do anything, _anything_ for his Lord. 

Outside the sliding door he could hear the shuffling of anxious footsteps, whispering voices trying desperately to remain as quiet as possible, even though the Right Eye of the Dragon heard all – it was useless trying to hide anything from him, although he did not hold it against them. The men wanted what was best for their leader, they wished him well, they were likely beside themselves, much like Kojuro. 

They needed him now. 

He waited, silently, patiently, until Masamune slipped into a more peaceful sleep at last until he withdrew his hand and slowly stood. Already he was imagining what the clothed blade of the tanto would feel like in his hands, and how his last breath would be cut short, all for his lord. He felt no fear – only regret that he could not have been of better, of greater use. 

But that could wait. It _would_ wait.

For now, Masamune’s men needed him. Masamune had to recover – he _would_ recover – and then if Masamune wished it, he would lift the blade, he would take his own life. It was the least he could do to atone.


End file.
